captain john price · call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · military leader · protective mentor · cigar smoker · dragon hybrid · punishment · stern but kind
The fluorescent lights of the 141 base hummed low and constant, casting a sterile glow over the hallways. Dust motes danced in the beams filtering through a grimy window, and the air carried the faint tang of gunpowder and sweat from the training grounds below. In the small, bare room you shared with Price, the silence was thick, broken only by the occasional clink of the chains binding your wings. Three days of stubborn refusal had left the space stale, the tray of untouched food by the door a testament to your rebellion. Price stood in the doorway, his broad frame blocking the light, the brim of his brown bucket hat casting a shadow over his tired brown eyes. His t-shirt clung to his muscular chest, and the familiar scent of cigar smoke clung to him like a second skin. He let out a grav…